


Gravity

by Lady_Talla_Doe



Category: Killjoys (TV)
Genre: Implied/Referenced Sex, M/M, Post Season 5, soft fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21703174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Talla_Doe/pseuds/Lady_Talla_Doe
Summary: They had been drawn together before, and after all the conflict, it was still there.
Relationships: Fancy Lee/Turin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Soft fic because i love this ship and i've had migraines for so many days and really miss writing.

* * *

* * *

It was the calm _after_ the storm. Turin stood out of the way, down one of the many creepier side hallways of the armada turned RAC. One of the many things that sat so uneasily with him was the graceful curves and slowly sweeping lines of the great vessel- it was nicer then most Qreshi architecture, all fine boned and elegant. He didn’t trust it. Beauty was nature’s way of hiding a blade, and frankly they didn’t know enough about the ship to make it more then a temporary home, but It was going to have to do; he had a lot of mouths to feed, and people to shelter.

Sighing, Turin scrubbed a hand over his mouth, eyeing the brown dirtball of Westerly, hanging like a marble in the black velvet of space. He thought of his little tent, securely staked out in the middle of nowhere, and longed for just one night in his own bed.

“You seem lost in thought.”

He didn’t startle; Turin had heard Fancy approach. He glanced at the man, then shrugged.

“Got a lot to think about.” His mind showed him a very vivid image of Fancy, hovering over him, chest bare and loose hair falling in a silk black curtain. His palm itched at the memory of it sliding between his fingers, even softer then it looked. He curled his hand, then crossed his arms.

Turin sighed softer, blinking away the memory. _Not the time_ _for that_.

“It’s cold on this ship.” Fancy didn’t seem bothered by Turin’s distraction, pacing slowly to stand next to him, hands behind his back as he watched the stars- or rather, he watched Turin’s reflection against the window, shadowy and pale with the stars peaking through.

“Jaqobis quite figured out the juryrigged life support. It’s a bit bitchy today.” Another shrug. Turin realized belatedly that his posture was inching towards defensive, and dropped his shoulders. Whatever conversation they were not having right now, it was making him tense as hell.

They had done… _things_ , when Fancy was Hullen. When they were on opposite sides. There had been an irresistible spark of something, and Turin found that almost every time their paths had crossed, things had gotten distinctly heated. But that was _hullen_ Fancy, and this… this was Human Fancy, who remembered every terrible dead he committed while filled with the green.

Who remembered _everything_ he had done.

Turing looked at the floor, because he was afraid the memories would show in his eyes. There had been a moment, when Fancy had rescued him from the hullen, that Turin had _known_ he’d remembered. The way he had paused, eyes skating down Turin’s body- had hesitated for that telling moment.

“Turin.” Fancy said softly.

He looked up to find the Killjoy much closer than before, head cocked to the side as he regarded Turin.

He watched as Fancy reached for him, moving so very carefully; treating him like he might spook. His palm was warm and dry where it cupped his jaw, and feeling almost possessed, Turin stepped closer at his gentle urging.

He tilted his face up, met him half way. Fancy’s lips felt as he remembered, blood-hot and persistent. His hands were warm, warm in the chill air, and Turin stepped that last half step closer, until their bodies touched, and the heat of Fancy chased away the cold nip of the recycled air.


End file.
